


"Do you love her?"

by fantasy_fairy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 16:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasy_fairy/pseuds/fantasy_fairy
Summary: “Do you love her?”Of all the questions Jon had expected her to ask him, or rather scream at him, this was not the one. After all, this was Sansa; clever, calculating, Sansa, an adept player of the Game of Thrones. There’s no place for love or emotions in politics. How many times had she lectured him over this? As many times perhaps, that she told him to not be such an honourable fool if he wished to be King, or to stay alive.





	"Do you love her?"

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing any kind of fanfiction at all. I really hope you guys like it. Do let me know in the comments. With enough encouragement, I might write a second chapter, with Sansa's POV. But then, I might do that anyway.

“Do you love her?”

Of all the questions Jon had expected her to ask him, or rather scream at him, this was not the one. After all, this was Sansa; clever, calculating, Sansa, an adept player of the Game of Thrones. _There’s no place for love or emotions in politics._ How many times had she lectured him over this? As many times perhaps, that she told him to not be such an honourable fool if he wished to be King, or to stay alive.

He should listen to her more often, he realised. Cold and calculating as it may be, her advice is often, also correct. If she had been there to advise him, he would have been a much better Lord Commander to the Night’s Watch. Would certainly never have ended up stabbed to death, lying in a pool of his own blood. He would certainly not be king if it wasn’t for her; he knew that much. All those Northern Lords who called him the White Wolf and proclaimed him King knew that too. But they would sooner freeze to death handing their loyalty and lives to an honourable fool such as him than kneel before a woman. Even if that woman was the eldest, trueborn daughter of their last true liege. Fools, all.

“Jon, I asked you something?” there’s a bite to that; subtle but present. Anger and impatience veiled with coolness and indifference. _Well, there’s the Sansa I know._

“I heard you. Just don’t know how to answer you.”

“Try honesty.” She says, impatiently.

 _Best to get it over with, then._ “It’s a sensible alliance, Sansa” he sighs, “that’s all I can say to you. Daenerys gets an heir, with the threat of any challenge of a claim to her throne removed, the North get’s its freedom, you get your birth right…”

“And, what do you get?”

He laughs. But it’s a bitter laugh, without any truth or real mirth. “I get to be the King. Well, the King consort, but with a place on the small council and command of the arms, it would be more power than any man in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Power”, she whispers disbelievingly. “That would make sense, if I didn’t know you better. Jon Snow, the most honourable man in all the realms, who takes it upon himself to undertake foolish missions and puts his life in danger to save the world. Something doesn’t fit.”

“Might be, I’m tired of always being the honourable fool. Might be I wish to be the rich fool, for once.”

“So much that you would leave us? Your home, your people, your family?” There’s a quiver in her voice as she says the last word, as though fighting a doubt in her mind. Her face is a mask of steel as though reeling for a fight, but her eyes betray a vulnerability he hasn’t seen in her ever since their reunion at Castle Black. “Or are we not family anymore? Is that what this is? Finding your way back to your _real_ family?”

“Sansa! You know that’s not what this is! Gods, how could you even think that?” He can’t believe she can’t see this for what it truly is. “I’m trying to protect my home, my family, my people.” _You._ “Marrying Daenerys is the path of the least destruction. If I do not, she would wage war against the North, with everything she has left. No matter that it would kill her, she will take the North down with her; or whatever is left of it. The war might be over, but winter is not.”

“You want to save us from another war by sacrificing your freedom? And how long will that peace last? You’re wrong Jon, the way to survive this winter is not by giving up your family but to be with it. You remember what Father used to say, don’t you?”

“When the snows fall, and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.” Of course, he remembers. But he also remembers what the lions did to Lord Stark and his wolf pack when he refused to play by their rules; what the dragons did to the wolves before that. _Does she not see, this is the only way?_

He closes his eyes and sighs, but that does nothing to rid him of his frustration, and it shows when he says, “Didn’t you used to tell me _not_ to be like Father or Robb? You said to be sensible, and this alliance, this marriage is exactly that! So, who cares if it is out of love or not?”

He expects her to lash out, like she has so many times before right here in her solar, telling him off for being so foolish. _Gods, but I have missed that too_.

She does no such thing. Simply looks at him silently with pain and disappointment in her eyes for so long that he cannot bear it any longer. So, he moves towards the window to look out and to not have to face her anymore. That’s when she answers,

“I care.” He hears the rustle of her skirts and knows she is walking towards him, but he can’t face her yet.

“I know what it is like to be in a marriage without love, Jon. Everyday as Ramsay Bolton’s wife was worse than anything the seven hells could hold for me, and I hope no one has to live that life. Daenerys is no Ramsay, and you are not the stupid, meek girl I was, so there may be no harm she could do to your body. But I was married once before. Tyrion was kind and gentle and never even touched me, but that was not a happy marriage either. Neither of us wanted it, and both of us were miserable. I do not want that for you.”

She is standing right next to him now, as close as she can without actually touching him, looking out the window. The light breeze from outside lets a few strands of her hair fly in his face, but he doesn’t brush them off. _This, here, is a memory, I should hold it close, for later._  Sensing he isn’t going to say anything yet, she goes on,

“She loves you. I can tell by the way she looks at you. She isn’t so ruthless as you think, either. She may want the throne, but she wants you too. She is willing to give up her claim to the North so long as she can have you by her side. Daenerys may be the Mad King’s daughter, but she is no fool. She wouldn’t give up the North for you if you didn’t truly mean anything to her beyond a political alliance. If only you loved her too, this would be like one of those songs I used to adore so much as a girl.”

He can’t help but let out a chuckle at that. Only Sansa could look past Daenerys’ fiery exterior and find something soft beneath it. But he doesn’t voice that thought. What he says instead as an explanation for his mild amusement is this,

“How are you so sure, I am not in love with her?”

She shakes her head at that. Then taking his hand in hers, she makes him turn sideways to face her. _When will I ever get used to this? Her gentle touch, so innocent, so unassuming, yet it takes me by surprise every time._

“I know that Jon, because I know you. I know that if you had loved her, you would not dishonour that love by finding other reasons to justify this marriage. I know that if there was any pleasure in this for you, this was not the path you would choose; that I wouldn’t be here to dissuade you from marrying the Dragon Queen, but to persuade you to follow your heart instead.”

“Would you? It would not matter then, that I would be leaving my home and my family?” he quips.

But she can see through his flimsy defence. “Of course, it would. But not more than your happiness. I would be happy, Jon, knowing that you were happy, knowing that you had a life you wanted with someone you love. You deserve that.”

She falls silent, looking into his eyes. For a while neither of them moves or says anything. Gods help him, but he cannot stop looking into her eyes, cannot let go of her hands. _But I must, or I wouldn’t ever be able to let go._

He closes his eyes and breaks the spell her eyes have over him, but holds on to her hands still as he utters, “Don’t you deserve that too, Sansa? Don’t you deserve the life you wanted, with some one you love in a home that is safe and not always under the threat of war from a Dragon Queen? Isn’t it my duty to—"

But she doesn’t let him finish. Pulling away angrily, she hisses “Oh, hang your duty Jon! Is that all you can ever think of?”

“Sansa….” Confused, he tries to close the distance between them, but she backs away further. Her voice is shaky when she says, “Fine, do as you please! When have you ever listened to anyone but yourself? You couldn’t get yourself killed on the battlefield, so you had to find a new way to hurt yourself and be the hero!”

Her cheeks are flushed red, but not just from anger. She is barely holding back tears. In all the time Jon has known Sansa, he has never seen her this close to crying, not even from when they were children. She was Sansa, ever elegant and ladylike, she would be livid with anger or ecstatic with joy and you wouldn’t know the difference. _Except, when she is fighting with me or Arya_ , but even then, it's always cold biting remarks more than passionate cries.

This is not something he understands. He doesn’t know what he can do, but he does not want to see Sansa crying, doesn’t think he can bear that.

“Sansa, please, just listen to me…”

“No!”, she stops him with a glare, “Do not come any closer! You’ve made your choice and I know I cannot change it. You should just leave then.” Wiping away her tears before they fall, she squares her shoulders, and just like that her cold mask of steel is back.  _Lady Stark._

She looks more like her mother in this moment than ever; and Jon has never had the spine to disobey Lady Stark. So, he walks towards the door and opens it, but gives her a last look before leaving. Her hand's folded, head held high and with ice in here eyes, that’s when she delivers the last blow, ever so lethal,

“Might be, I _am_ wrong. Might be you  _do_ want her, love her, and this is all just a ruse to justify it. You are a Targaryen after all.”

There is nothing he can say to that. He simply shuts the door behind him as he leaves. _She isn’t wrong._ He is a Targaryen.

_Which is why I must stay leagues away from you._


End file.
